The Wager
by Lickapaw
Summary: MaCavity is an intelligent, 'though community-coddled and slightly gauche, young adult tom belonging to the Jellicle community in London. But when his curiosity takes him somewhere he shouldn't go, he finds his life begin to take a worrying turn...
1. Chapter 1

THE WAGER

Macavity stretched comfortably where he lay on top of the brick wall. The terracotta had soaked up the sun's heat and now radiated warmth into his belly. The sun baked his back. Encased in glorious warmth, he was as relaxed as a cat could be.

A scraping noise caught his attention, and he glanced down into the garden. The long-haired pollicle Bessie, Jemima's housemate, trotted out of the conservatory. Her delicate claws scratched a rhythm on the patio. As he watched, the bearded collie found a spot of shade, lay down in it and panted contentedly.

"Good morning to you, miss!" he greeted. "A fine day, is it not?"

"Fine indeed," the bitch replied, "but rather too warm for my liking." She fell silent, the better to pant, and Mac saw that she was, indeed, too hot.

"Where's Jemima?" he asked. Usually the kitten would be out here, chasing dandelion seeds or soaking up Sol's rays.

"Playing catch with a mouse on a string, my darling."

Mac nodded. Aware that Bessie wanted peace, he closed his eyes and returned to the silent luxury of the strong sunlight.

CATS

Hours later, night had fallen. The cloudless sky spread further than the feline mind could contemplate and displayed its stars and magnificent moon like a proud peacock. Jennyanydots sat on the bonnet of the old car wreck and contemplated those stars. But she didn't remain alone for long; a cat approached. She looked into the darkness. _Macavity!_ she thought happily.

"Good evening, young tom!" she greeted, and the pair rubbed cheek glands. She looked him up and down and huffed. "Still as unkempt as ever," she scolded good-naturedly and licked the edge of his scruffy left ear. He leaned comfortably into her, enjoying the attention.

"You know me, milady," he smiled, and sat down to continue washing by himself. Jenny looked up at the stars again and he followed her gaze.

"So very beautiful. Utterly so," she mused.

"Without the shadow of a doubt," he said. "Without any shadow at all, in fact. They are made of perfect light." Jenny, he knew, loved nature, hence the poetic turn in his side of the conversation. He looked at her and saw wonder mix with excitement on her face. In empathy, he began to feel a wish to dance. He extended a paw. "Shall we?"

Jenny smiled and took his paw. Without another word, they danced, twirling and ducking, lifting and leaping, sometimes touching and sometimes not, as the stars shone down and the moon glowed.

CATS

The following afternoon was refuse collection day at the junkyard, the local restaurant industry's generous bounty. Mistoffelees hunted for unmoving prey among the scraps of paper and half-empty cans. The heap was fairly abuzz with feline life. Several of the jellicle tribe were here, picking through the mess in search of old biscuits, or fish bones, or dried-on meat in old tin cans - whatever tasty morsels they could find.

As Mistoffelees picked through the debris, he wondered to himself. _Those humans who've just moved in two doors down; their pollicle looks a promising one. Staffordshire... never tried tapping a Staffordshire before. Are Staffs paranoid? Doesn't matter if they are. The usual sedative spell should do the trick. Is this edible?_ He picked up half a sausage, sniffed it, decided it was good to eat, and nibbled on it as he continued his thoughts. _Hmm, yes. Staffs must be full of energy. I'll try. I'll try..._

Victoria interrupted his thoughts. "Misto!" she said, and he turned to her. She stumbled, caught her feet in a mass of plastic bags, and tripped over. She fell forward and he caught her just in time.

He put her back on her feet. "Hello, Vic. Is everything all right?" he asked. Victoria was his full sister, although she came from a subsequent litter and as a result was a little younger. She was a little chubby as befitted slightly immature kittens, and her fur, 'though clean enough, looked perpetually dirty due to a throwback tabby gene. He loved her, his clumsy, clean-but-grimy-looking little sister.

"I can't find anything to eat!" she complained, slightly tearful with frustration.

Mistoffelees looked at the partially-eaten sausage fragment, and promptly decided he'd had enough of it. "In which case, feel free to take this," he replied. She took it, looked at it as if it were the best thing she'd found all week, and began to gnaw on it. "Now," he continued, "There is much I would like to do, so I'll see you later. Bye for now, little sister." He kissed the top of her head and she wriggled.

"Bye bye!" she replied, and, smiling, he turned to head toward his hideout. He had much to do...

CATS

MaCavity watched Victoria gaze after her brother. Eventually she turned away and sought out her friends. _Hmm..._ he thought as he considered the band of kittens. There were four in the core group: Victoria, Jemima, Etcetera and Electra. Electra was the leader of the group. Young but strikingly confident, she was the one who usually decided on the small band's activities for the day. Her inevitable naivete sometimes led them all into trouble, but she was a brave one. Mac afforded himself a wry grin as she took an interest in Victoria's meaty morsel.

Jemima, the smallest, was a patchy little kitten. The only one born to her mother, Electra had taken her under her wing and taught her the cossetting delights of sisterhood. It was clear even now that Jemima would grow to be a beauty, and she was already slim and lithe. Fast reflexes and great flexibility added to the kitten prodigy. She was the envy of the kitten group.

The sausage had been demolished, and Etcetera - a high-energy little kitten - took the opportunity to play. As Victoria sat and washed her paws, Etcy pounced on her, knocking the hapless Victoria to the ground. Mac noticed irritation and hurt flicker across Vic's features, but clearly the tabby-and-white had no time to voice her annoyance, because Etcetera bowled her over again, tumbling and wrestling and laughing.

They rolled close to Mac and he backed away. Etcetera, still laughing, cried out, "Macca! Help me pin her down!"

But Mac wasn't interested. "Kittens, please! Let me be!" he replied good-naturedly. But firmly. Vic began to protest at Etcy, and Mac decided he really didn't want to be a part of the kittens' latest fallout. If Victoria felt strongly enough about it, she'd learn to cope. Mac leapt away and climbed up the hill of rubbish to see what else was around.

Just outside the junkyard, Mac saw Mistoffelees walk alone. He seemed to be going somewhere. Idly curious, Mac decided to follow the magical cat.

CATS

Mistoffelees approached his hideaway, and as he did so, thought ahead to his plan.

Magic took energy, but it also took concentration. Therefore, an enchanted creature was not encouraged to draw off his own energy supply when performing magical feats. It was best to use the energy of another creature. Mistoffelees liked to use dogs for this: their energy felt different so he could compartmentalise it within his body without getting muddled between it and his own, and some dogs had seemingly endless supplies of it. All in all, they were perfect for the task. It was also much of the basis for the widely-known rivalry between felids anad canids.

Terriers worked best. The news that a pair of Staffordshire bull terriers had moved into a house on his street, therefore, was excellent news. But in order to siphon energy from them, he first needed to cast an invisibility spell, and for that, he needed to visit his hideout.

Presently he arrived. He swept aside the netting that served as a screen and passed into the darkness. Inside, he found a rack of dried plants. He ground the leaves from a few, catching them in his paw. He mixed them together and placed them in the middle of the floor. There, he muttered an incantation that combined with the spiritual influences of the herbs and _dimmed_ him. He honed the spell, adjusting and amplifying its effects, until he'd reached optimum invisibility.

That done, he left. The Staffs would have no idea he was there...

CATS

MaCavity kept himself hidden as he watched the entrance to Misto's hideout. Misto had gone in, but there was no way Mac could get closer without being rumbled. So instead, he sat down, unsure of what to do next. Within a few minutes, the netting that obscured the entrance swished to one side. Mac didn't see anybody come out, but he was in no doubt that Misto had just left. Well, there was no possibility of Mac following him now!

So he decided to wait a few moments. Finally, he suspected that Mistoffelees must have gone some distance away. _What now?_

It occurred to Mac then, that Misto's hideaway was a source of great mystery to him. He didn't know what magic the tom kept in there, but he bet there were some amazing things! What did magic cats use, anyway? Could Misto read? Did he keep books in there? And crystals! Were crystals really magic, as the stories told? Were they as beautiful as he'd heard? Were there symbols scratched on paper, and talismans, and, and...

Mac decided at that moment to look. Just one short peek wouldn't hurt, would it? He looked around again - he didn't know why, because if Misto was around at all, he'd probably still be invisible - and then trotted down toward the entrance. He swept back the curtain and ducked inside.

He found himself in darkness. His pupils dilated quickly and before long, he was able to clearly see the room around him. It was a disappointment. A long piece of string had been wound around rusty bars at each end of the room and, tied to them were upside-down herbs. A human child's jewellery box sat in the corner, a battered sculpture of a ballerina on top. A metal keyhole stared at him from the front of the box. He shivered and looked around a little more.

A flat plank sat on two bricks, making a cat-sized table. There were objects on there, and Mac looked at them. Most were boring plant things, but one item was different. It was a sculpture; he picked it up. Made from some kind of stone, it looked like a mask. Or rather, half a mask. One angry, feline eye glared back at him, and half a mouth roared silently, lips peeled back in bare aggression, one fang glinting in the meagre light. Mac decided it was creepy and put it down. _Well, there's not much here,_ he decided.

Suddenly he began to feel he was intruding. At once convinced that he could feel the empty eye of the lock behind him and the glare of the half-mask, he made directly for the exit.

Once out in the open air, Mac kept walking at high speed, paranoid now that Mistoffelees might have been watching him all along; who else's eyes could he feel on him right now? Certainly no mask's, and even less so the hole in a lock! Gasping in great draughts of cool evening air, he scrambled over the last of the rubbish and out onto the street, where he dropped onto all fours just in time before a human walked by.

"Oh hello, kitty-cat." A hand came down and rubbed his chin, and he stopped to catch his breath while the human petted him. _I was just being paranoid... I was just being paranoid,_ he told himself.

CATS

MaCavity felt the nylon covering of his bed as he sleepily turned over, the material patchy with cool exposed areas, and areas previously warmed by his own mammalian heat. He briefly opened his eyes and saw the dark-blue-background-with-fishbones pattern of his basket, and then closed them again as he drifted into sleep.

_He looked down toward the ground. It was a long way away. He was dimly aware that either he didn't have legs, or they were tucked very tightly beneath him, but that didn't seem to matter for now; only the scene below did. Dark feline shapes squirmed, their emaciated ribs and bony elbows disproportionately clearly visible despite the distance. Mac couldn't tell whether they were writhing in agony or participating in some kind of cult dance. They were laying on their sides as they moved, but there seemed something communal, something... gleeful in their actions._

A pair of eyes from the throng caught his attention and he looked at them. Although there were two eyes, only one was easy to see, and it glowed with a lifeless, amber light. Its owner was saying something, although mac couldn't tell what it was. Then he realised the other cats had started to chant.

Mac felt afraid, and tried to get away. It was only then he realised that, although he had legs - and at this he was relieved - they were immobile, clamped to the underside of his body as if he was laying down. He tried to straighten them, move them, but they wouldn't shift. Fearful of what the leader-cat would do, he sought him out again.

The cat's face seemed to have disintegrated, and broken diagonally into two halves. The upper half appeared ready to fall off, although the cat didn't seem to care. It was speaking to him, and Mac strained to hear the words.

It was no use. The cat just wasn't audible. Immobile, Mac hung in the air and stared at the leader-cat with growing horror, not knowing what to do. With shocking suddenness, the top half of the cat's face broke off and shot towards him, like a falling object, only upwards. Despite his fear, Mac tried to remember where he'd seen something like that before - it seemed familiar, but he couldn't place it - before it hit him.

He didn't know where it went, but when it touched him he felt an explosion of power. Pure and forceful, it spread into every part of his body, into his claws and the complex parts inside his ears, the tips of his hairs and the sharp points of the tips of his teeth. The power was all-consuming, for a moment, it was everything.

But he understood one thing: it was not his_ power. It was inside him, but it was not his to wield; he was cut off from being able to use it. At the moment he realised this was true, the power burst like a firework; he felt a jolt of shock akin to his heart exploding_ and he woke, panting.

He was laying in his basket, body splayed skewed as if he'd been trying to wriggle free of something. It had been a nightmare, there was nothing to be afraid of. Just a nightmare. Fear still coursing in the background rhythm of his body like a second heartbeat, Mac gripped his stuffed rat toy and curled up a little, stretching his legs out in front of him. Although he knew there was nothing to be afraid of in the dark, he buried his face into the toy and hid from the darkness around him that felt singularly oppressive.

He dozed after that, but no other dreams came to him.

CATS

"Miaow!" Mac protested as his owner picked a slice of toast from the toaster and dropped it, hurriedly, on her plate. "Miaow!" He wanted to go outside, to seek the company of other cats. His dream the previous night still unsettled him and he needed, unusually, to be among his own kind.

"Alright little man, alright!" she snapped and came over to the door, turning the lock and opening it. Mac slipped through the gap before she'd fully opened it and began his trip to the junkyard, just hearing the words, "I'll look for a flat with a catflap next time, okay..?" as he left.

He leapt up onto the top of the brick wall and trotted along its spine, and as he did, he thought about that nightmare the night before. What did it mean? Did it have to mean anything? That evil cat-leader; he didn't know anybody like that. It certainly hadn't been Old Deuteronomy, or even Munkustrap, 'though Munkustrap was of a closer age.

And then, just as Mac got to the end of the wall, he came to an abrupt stop. He'd just remembered the part where the cat's face had slammed into him. That had been Mistofellees' stone mask! _My goodness,_ Mac thought. He suddenly felt a great deal more relaxed; so the nightmare had been a product of nothing but his unnerved feelings about having sneaked into Misto's cave. Well, that made him feel much better.

He leapt down to the concrete and carried on to the junkyard, his tail held high and his spirits fortified.

CATS

Mungojerrie walked casually alongside his sister, thinking ahead to their planned day of thievery. It would be fun, and it would (hopefully) be profitable. Rumpelteazer knew what to do; they'd talked over their respective parts in this heist. He glanced over at her to see her glancing back, a naughty grin lighting up her face.

A cat rounded the corner. "Morning, you two," MaCavity announced sunnily. Mungojerrie switched his attention from his sister to the ginger tom. He seemed happy to see them.

"Awright, mate?" he greeted. Mac rubbed his flank against Mungo's and was promptly sandwiched in by Rumpelteazer joining in on the other side. _Poor Mac! He doesn't deserve both of us ganging up on 'im!_ Mungo chuckled at the slightly absurd situation.

Mac squirmed as he was enclosed by the two cats and purred briefly, then looked around in surprise at Mungo's laugh. He seemed to take the laugh as a reminder that this _was_ a strange situation, and joined in with the hilarity. With no further words, Mac swished his tail in an approximation of a 'see you later', and trotted on into the junkyard.

Mungo found time to wonder what it was about MaCavity that seemed different today, shrugged, and caught up with Rumpel.

TO BE CONTINUED...

_Hello readers._

I have been keen to put out this first chapter in the story, so am unsure quite when I'll next post. However, I hope this taster/opening chapter has whetted your appetite. There is certainly much more to come, and I hope that in time, I will bring more of it to fruition. Until then, I would love to know what you think of this initial part. Constructive criticism will be welcome, so by all means tell me your thoughts via the review button below.

Thank you for your kind co-operation.


	2. Chapter 2

THE WAGER

MaCavity sat on the junkyard car boot and watched the kittens dance. Electra and Etcetera, Victoria and Jemima were laughing and composing a routine, and having fun, by the look and sound of it. Himself, he was happy just to stretch out lazily at the side of the arena and watch the dance take form.

His mind wandered and he thought back to the nightmare of the night before. Most of the details had escaped him now; wisps of dream that had evaporated as he'd gone about his day. But one small detail had become lodged in his mind: that mask! Mac gazed into the middle distance as he tried to reconstruct the look of the mask in his mind's eye, but couldn't. _What colour was it again?_ he asked himself. Failing to recall, he shook his head and paid attention to the half-conceived dance again.

It seemed that not all of the kittens were having such a good time; Victoria struggled to co-ordinate herself and lagged slightly behind the others, forgetting twists until the whirl of her companions reminded her, taking four steps and not three, and bungling the snake movements Electra had suggested they add to the routine. He could see she was beginning to get frustrated.

Mac said nothing, but he understood part of the kitten's problem: she, like he, was tall for her age. A heavier body and longer limbs tended to make some aspects of dancing more difficult. The trick, he knew, was either to dance solo or dance slowly, but he didn't have the heart to tell her just yet while she was getting the social life she needed from her enthusiastic, giggling surrogate sisters. He stretched, extending his claws and yawning; _I might take her to one side when she's a little older and more independent, and give her a few tips then,_ he decided.

Then a flurry of exchange caught his attention: Victoria started to cry as, for the fourth or fifth time, Jemima executed a stylish cartwheel-cum-axial turn. "I can't do it!" she wailed, tears accompanying the admission. Etcetera, for once, seemed to register the other cat's upset and came to her. Mac saw Etcetera approach to give Victoria a comforting hug, only for the smudgey kitten to harshly push away the tidier-looking pale tabby. Victoria stormed off.

Just as she did this, Mistoffelees crested the edge of the east junkpile. He saw his sister looking upset, and hurried down to her. "My sister, what's wrong?" he asked gently. She seemed to wilt, and hugged him. Concerned, he hugged back.

"I can't dance!" she sniffed.

Etcetera, who hadn't been far behind, caught up with her and touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Vic."

"_Go away!_" Vic turned to Etcetera and hissed. Mac could see she really was quite upset.

Then Misto seemed to take control of the situation: "Kittens, will you please tell me what happened? Vic?" he prompted, and, sniffling, she began to relate the events.

Mac tuned out Vic's words; he already knew more or less what she was going to say, and she'd be all right. Instead, he found his attention wondering to Misto, and the thought of that mask again. _I'd like another look at that mask,_ he thought. _I don't think it'll give me nightmares again, and it was quite a cool thing. Maybe I can..?_

Misto, it seemed, would be busy sorting out the kittens' dispute for a while. Mac looked over his shoulder in the direction of the magic cat's lair. He'd be able to get there, look at the mask and move on, wouldn't he? Just for the challenge, just for the fun. He was slick enough not to get caught, surely? He decided right then, he would try.

He levered himself up and trotted around the piles of rubbish.

CATS

It didn't take him long to arrive, and within a couple of minutes he was standing outside the curtain to the hideout. Mac felt a _smoothing_ in the air, a slow reverence that surprised him. He felt, to his surprise, a sense of respect for the mask he knew lay within. Somehow it felt like an icon of the nightmare, sinister but harmless, like the villain in a bedtime story. Taking a deep breath, he scooped back the curtain and entered the dark cavern.

Everything was more or less as he had expected; the middle of the room was still empty, the walls were still made of old pieces of MDF, the backs of fridges and compressed rubbish. The lockable box in the corner was still there with its tattered plastic human dancer, and the table was still in place. Mac felt a tingle of anticipation as he saw the mask. Slightly intoxicated with the occasion, he approached, and reached out a paw for it.

It was cold and stony, smooth and polished, and weighty. It glowed with light, reflecting dully from its semi-precious flesh. He turned it over and over, looking at it from all angles. It occurred to him that the mask must have another half, that this was only part of the sculpture; the edge was ragged. Broken once, long ago.

Holding it made him feel peaceful, and he felt a notion to close his eyes and just... hold the mask for a moment. Planting his feet wide enough that he wouldn't fall over, he rocked back on his heels, closed his eyes, and enjoyed what he knew was only an imagined communion with the mask.

_The sky raced past him, the wind warm and gentle; he was encased in the blue of a balmy, cloudless day. The vision was a pleasant one and Mac imagined this must be what it felt like for summer swallows catching insects for their chicks._

The speed increased, and he saw lines of vapour whip past him, and a faint breeze started to register on his face and ears. The speed increased.

The sky around him began to turn from its benevolent blue to something darker. Mac knew instinctively it wasn't a stormy darkness, although he didn't know how he knew this. The sky turned red.

Mac had no idea where he was going; his instincts didn't seem to say he was headed anywhere and there wasn't anything else in the sky apart from him. Whenever he thought to look downwards at the ground, something discouraged him; he seemed to forget to do so. He continued to look forward; he still felt calm.

"BOO!" The mask appeared, big and amber and shiny and very close, and from nowhere. It didn't race toward him or come in from the side or from below, it was just suddenly there.

Mac nearly dropped the mask, just catching it in time to put it back on the table. Although he couldn't see anything different in the hideout, he fetl suddenly he wasn't alone. _There's something in here with me!_ he thought with horror.

He sprinted outside, thumping the curtain out of the way and covering the ground in panicked strides. Through his panic, he dimly heard laughter, deep and evil, feline but monstrous. He continued to run.

Finally he stopped, reluctantly slowing down in the middle of one of the city's green parks. There were people here, and that suited him fine. He didn't want to be alone, but he didn't strictly speaking want company. Shaking, he looked for a high vantage point, found one in the shape of a tree branch, and clambered up for privacy while he gathered his thoughts.

The mask had reacted to him! Horror infused every fibre of his body; the mask was _alive_! Mac gripped the branch, feeling helpless as he let the realisation sink in.

But as the horror slowly ebbed, he began to feel irritated. The mask, as its way of frightening him, had _boo'ed_ him. _Boo!_ Mac exclaimed to himself. _That's a word to frighten kittens! It would hardly even scare Etcetera!_ Slowly, panic gave way to anger that the mask had used such a cheap scare trick on him.

And that laughter. Etheral certainly, it had been a vindictive response to his panic. The nerve!

Slowly his heartbeat returned to its normal rate and he felt safe enough to come down to ground level. He ignored the humans, and most of them ignored him. He had no idea what had happened back there, but he resolved that he wasn't going to be frightened by some stupid mask!

He wouldn't visit Misto's lair again, though. He felt he'd done enough illicit venturing in that direction.

CATS

Bombalurina padded quietly through the streets. As she walked, she looked up and around, at the broken window above the pastry shop, at the bloated orange squid hanging in the window of the Peking Restaurant, at the ever-present black sacks of rubbish outside most of the establishments. She'd been away from the Jellicle tribe for just over three months, and as she approached, she still felt the conflicting feelings of sadness and joy at her impending arrival.

The gateway to the junkyard came slowly into view; however, rather than walking between the iron pillars, she hopped up onto the tree that stood beside the wall. From here, she galloped down the inside of the wall and landed in silence on the muddy ground. The area the Jellicles met in was a few rubbish-piles away, and she ran between them, avoiding men in fluorescent overalls as she went.

CATS

MaCavity approached the junkyard again slightly shamefully, feeling that he'd done something wrong. _Don't be silly,_ he thought, _nobody knows I was there._

_Apart from some disembodied monster..._

Oh, don't be foolish, Mac! You imagined it!

I didn't! I heard it!

What you heard was a projection. You frightened yourself like a kitten jumping at a shadow. You heard the wind, that is all-

Is that Bomba?

And it seemed it was. The scarlet queen, his distant cousin and restless traveller, had come back to the yard. Noticing that several of the other cats had stopped to watch her dance, he settled down, too.

Bombalurina danced mostly on the spot, turning and lifting and dipping like a flame. There was something else in her dance, though, something that was less fire-like. Slower, damper. Mac tilted his head as he tried to put his finger on it.

"She's back!" Jennyanydots whispered in his ear happily. He flinched, and looked at her. She was smiling.

"She is!" he agreed. "When did she come? Has she spoken to anybody yet?"

"Not yet, my love. She only just arrived; she started dancing right away. Alonzo didn't fare too well when he tried to dance with her, though."

Mac blinked at Jenny. "Oh?" and turned back, curious.

As he watched Bomba continue to dance, Jenny explained how Alonzo had attempted to join the dance with her to form a duet, and how Bomba had reacted. Her expression had seemed to become distant, Jenny told him, and eventually she'd dissolved the dance and she'd stepped away from him. When it was clear Alonzo understood he wasn't wanted, he left. Bom had then recommenced her dance, her movements flickering between anger and sadness. Mac wasn't sure what to say; instead, he observed a while longer, wondering what was wrong with his cousin.

Presently, the red queen seemed to be slowing down. She came to face the kittens, who'd been watching agog and pointing at various moves she'd made, excitedly chattering to eachother. As Bomba found a comfortable spot at the border of the clearing and sat down, Electra came closer.

"You were _amazing_, Bom! Where did you learn those moves?"

"Yeah!" Etcetera agreed, "Where did you go? What did you do?"

"Did you meet any other cats?" Jemima asked.

Jenny nudged Mac and, smiling, led him down closer to Bom so they too could hear her story.

"Well, kittens," Bom began, "I've been a long way and done so much. There's too much to tell you all at once, but maybe I should start by telling you about the friends I made in London Zoo. The tigers have a beautiful dance from their homelands, and they taught it to me on a cloudy night..."

CATS

Mac drifted on the verge of sleep. He could no longer feel the bed around him and his thoughts were vague. With a subtle _dipping_ feeling, his consciousness seemed to make the switch from wakefulness to slumber.

_There was fog around him. He stood in the cold, outdoors somewhere. he wondered how he'd got there; last thing he remembered, he'd settled down to sleep in his basket. He tried to squint through the vapour to get a clue as to his whereabouts._

There were vague piles around, much like the heaps of refuse of the Jellicle's meeting place. The piles were of a different form however, different heights to the ones he was used to. Maybe this was a different junkyard?

He sensed the arrival of another cat. It approached slowly. It's fur looked grey, even accounting for the haze. Its eyes were closed. Without a word, it came within talking distance and sat opposite him.

Mac wanted to ask who this cat was, but somehow it didn't occur to him to open his mouth and speak. Instead, he just stared, and tried to pick out details of the other cat's face. The thick fog provided just enough cover to frustrate his efforts.

"You've been on a treasure hunt," the cat said simply in a smooth, male voice. Was that a trace of humour in its voice?

Mac didn't know what the stranger was talking about. "Who are you?" he asked.

"You like to break the rules, don't you?" it said. "You looked into the magic cat's lair and found the treasure."

Mac suddenly felt guilty. "You knew I'd done that?" he asked.

"Yes indeed," came the calm reply. "You went in regardless of it being forbidden. You broke the rules."

"B-but Misto's never said not to go in," Mac stammered, suddenly feeling an intense need to justify his actions. "He's never said I couldn't go in. There were no rules," his words faded away as he realised he seemed to be playing right in to the stranger's paws.

"And with that justification, you did what you wanted to do." It shifted its weight from one side of its rear to another; a non-verbal punctuation that made clear he knew what Mac had done.

Mac couldn't think of anything to say; he stared at the cat guiltily, still trying to make out the details of his face and largely failing.

"What would you do with power?"

This seemed a strange way to phrase a question and Mac didn't reply for a moment, just tried to work out how the conversation had got this far. As he sat in confusion, a dream he'd had a while ago came to him in which a disembodied mask had slammed into his body, infusing him with a sense of power.

"I said: 'what would you do with power'?" the stranger repeated.

Mac had a fleeting sense that he would have asked what the cat meant if the circumstances had been different, but instead found himself saying, "No, I don't want power! I wouldn't want to do anything with it!" Immediately he felt a sense of honour in saying this - of course he wouldn't want power! All he wanted was a full food bowl and his friends and the protection of the Jellicles' patriarch and the love of a queen and, and...

That sense of power infused him again, leeching into him as if through the tendrils of fog. He swooned; he thought of the queens of the tribe and found himself thinking about them differently. Rather than feeling a sensual bliss at their charms and a slight fear at their austerity, he thought of them as if weighing them up, their strengths, their weaknesses. Jenny, the ageing queen who seemed to come alive when he was around, plumb reservoirs of confidence in his presence, suddenly seemed like nothing to him; Demeter and her casual flirtations with Munkustrap and strong connections to various other parts of the tribe, now seemed more within his reach, and more desirable; Bombalurina one to watch; too much the outspoken one.

What is this! I can't think of my tribemates like this!

What would he do with power? Climb the heights of influence within the tribe like some previously-unscaleable wall; manipulate the toms, however strong, into wretched submission; be the master of them all. Father all the kittens and leave no familial inheritance for the other males; to take Deuteronomy's place and be able to smile benignly - ha! The old fool's face floated before him and irritated Mac with its patronising look - on all the other cats. To have every cat, with every skill they had, at his disposal. His to command. His to crush at any sign of dissent.

Just... His.

He shook his head and brought himself back to earth - the stranger was still sitting in front of him. He seemed not to be confused or irritated at Mac's reverie. He seemed not to have noticed at all.

"What would you do with power?" the stranger asked once again.

Mac looked away to think. "I don't know what I'd do," he said. And, despite the appeal of the power in his thoughts a moment ago, he still couldn't see what he'd do with it. Why have it? For what? "Why do you ask?"

The cat's ear twitched. "What would you do with power?" It asked.

Mac frowned. "You already asked me that. Who are you?"

"What would you do with power?"

"Who are _you?"_

"What would you do with power?" The question seemed to be whispered from all around Mac; he stole a look around.

"What would you do with power?" the voice became many, disembodied whispers.

"Why are you asking me?" Mac shouted into the air around him, trying to make out the shapes of cats, anything, in the distant darkness. He could see nothing. He couldn't even sense cats there. But they must be there if they were whispering to him, surely?

"What would you do with power?"

Mac had had enough and turned to face the stranger again. "Why won't you make them st-"

The stranger's face was completely visible. Only it didn't have a face, it had a mask. Half a mask, unnaturally bright among the drab surroundings.

Mac awoke with a start.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Mac felt the need for his tribemates' company even more. The dream of the night before had left him wide-eyed and afraid, all the more so because he'd felt the grey cat's evil power. Such a vivid dream. _I need to be close to other cats,_ he decided. _To hear a purr and feel somebody rubbing their cheek glands down my side._ That would make him feel better.

The only problem was, he couldn't seem to convince his wretched owner to open the door. She clicked around the kitchen on her high heels, made herself coffee and threw things into her handbag, and ignored him however plaintively he miaowed at her.

"Miaow!" _Are you deaf?_

"Not now boy, I'm late!" she snapped and turned swiftly back to the living room.

_Open the door, human!_ he seethed. _Can't you see I need space?_ "Mia-AOW!"

"Just _wait!"_ she half-shouted. "I can't hear myself think! Where are my keys?"

_Where you always keep them. Down the back of the sofa,_ Mac thought irritably.

Then he remembered that the bathroom window was propped open. He didn't need to bother her at all, he just needed to hop onto the bath side, then the toilet cistern, then the window sill and slip out of there. But somehow - just _some_how, even despite his urgency to leave, this escape route held less appeal to him than getting his owner to open the door for him. Part of his mind puzzled at this - it didn't make sense! But his heart was set on having her open the door for him.

He'd make her do it. And there was one way he knew to force her. It would be undignified, but... He walked over to the back door. He hadn't done this indoors since he was a kitten, but if it made her see sense...

"OH! _No,_ cat, _no!"_ she shreiked and hurried to open the back door. "Go on, do your business out there!"

Feeling vindicated, Mac walked calmly down the garden path, his tail high and proud.

"Filthy cat!"

CATS

Bom had decided to spend the night at the dump but now that the light had faded into the sky, she couldn't help but feel disappointed. She stood for a moment, arched her back and shook. Dew flew off her fur. She sat down again, more revitalised by the scent of the fresh dew-water than by anything she'd seen in the night just passed.

Usually at least a few of the Jellicles hung around the dump to dance or talk. When Bombalurina had been a growing kitten, the mystery of just what the adults did after dark at the dump thrilled her. Once, all she'd known about it was that it made their collar-bells gingle a lot, and she'd lay inside the window of her home listening, tantalised. The truth had turned out to be that the adult Jellicles danced sleeker, less energetic but more seductive dances just for grown-up queens and toms. They curled up together and discussed the best places to find truly luxurious rubbish full of caviar and things containing delicious sweet cream mixed by human chefs. Mistofelees cast intriguing spells. And all together, the night-loving Jellicles would stay until Big Ben chimed six o'clock...

But now, after Bomba's travels, all of that seemed rather... small-time. Away from the Jellicles she'd learned the tigers' ballet and made her own heart race trying to keep up with the snow leopards' warming and impossibly demanding mountain dances. She'd learned how to elevate raw fish found in the dump to delicious and authentic Japanese dishes by a cat beautiful both inside and out, owned by a Japanese restauranteur. She'd been the delerious focus of spells cast by a black panther shaman, spells that left Mistofelees' tricks feeling rather paltry by comparison.

The truth was - and it pained her to admit it - that she'd outgrown the tribe. But where else was a Jellicle to go? None of the places she'd been to were right for her to stay, and Bom knew she was lucky to have been accepted back into the tribe. Grizabella hadn't been so lucky.

_I found myself out there,_ she thought wistfully as she craned her neck to look toward London Zoo. _Only to find I can't be myself back at home._

CATS

Whenever she gave little Victoria a wash, Jennyanydots always felt torn between the mumsy warmth of her mothering instincts and a nagging belief that cleaning the kitten was a pointless exercise. However much she licked and wiped at Victoria, however much she scrubbed, the kitten never, ever looked clean. But of course she deserved to be clean, so Jenny took the trouble.

Macavity sauntered around the corner on all fours, his tail sticking straight up and his eyes bright. She caught his gaze and tilted her ears in a gesture of warm greeting.

He noticed and-

Jennyanydots stared in surprise, but she was sure Mac had just wrinkled his nose, frowned and turned loftily away!

Was something the matter?

"Well my dear," she said, eager to distract herself from the upsetting possibility of Mac being irritated with her. He was such a sweet young tom - and too endearingly attractive for it to be true. She put her paws on Victoria's shoulders and turned the kitten gently around to face her. "You're as clean as a new dinner bowl."

Little Victoria looked at her paws and then up at Anydots. She saw the battle going on inside the kitten's head: the awareness that she didn't _look_ clean against the simple desire to be polite and grateful for the grooming. "Thank you aunt Jenny," she said, her voice slightly dull.

At that point Electra came around the car and Jenny gently pushed Victoria's shoulder to send her over. As she did so she looked over at Macavity again. _Have I done something to upset him?_

CATS

Mistofelees had been warming himself in the sun and doing what he usually wryly called his 'filing': feeling the strands of energy available to him through connections to the local pollicle community and reviewing them. _This one the hyperactive poodle at number fourty; this one Bessie; this one the elderly labrador on the corner. I think I'll stop drawing off him soon._

He barely noticed when Macavity took a spot next to him and lay, limbs bunched and paws soft, back exposed to the summer glare.

Neither spoke for a while. Mistofelees because his mind was busy and, although he knew somebody was next to him he didn't want to distract himself and speak. Macavity because he wanted the magic cat to make the first move. He was interested to know about Victoria's state of mind and, although he knew he could ask Misto directly about this, he suspected it would look less suspicous if he were just to stay silent and let Misto talk about whatever he wanted to.

_Suspicious? What would there be to be suspicious of?_

Either way, something deep in Mac convinced him he would feel very clever if he managed to manipulate Misto into telling him what he wanted to hear without pushing him.

_Perhaps it's just an idle mind game,_ he convinced himself and wrapped his tail around his haunch.

The silence continued. Jennyanydots seemed vaguely aloof as she seated herself on the car bonnet and settled into a spot of crocheting, Electra talked at Victoria about nothing in particular, and his cousin Bombalurina watched the lazy summer scene from a high perch, her red limbs draped as if she had no bones, her expression almost morose with boredom.

"I don't know how to cheer her up," Misto said quietly, so quietly that only Macavity heard. Mac looked at him, and saw the magic cat watching his younger sister.

Macavity considered his first contribution to the discussion. "She doesn't like herself very much."

"No," Misto agreed. "She's such a nice young queen though Mac," he implored, as if begging Macavity to agree with him.

The vaguest seed of an agenda germinated in Mac's mind. Not knowing why it occurred to him but not seeing any reason to fight it, he answered, "Well nice, yes." With the slightest hint that 'nice' was all she had going for her. No outstanding intelligence, grace, beauty or wit, just bland, bland niceness. He didn't look at Misto as he spoke but watched out of the corner of his eye. _How will you react to that?_

Misto glanced at Mac but said nothing. He sighed, and put his chin on his paws. And like that, he watched his sister for a long time.

CATS

Tugger braced himself in the pet-taxi as the human swung it and put it down. As soon as he felt it touch hard ground he stood up and peered through the bars.

A human he hadn't seen before crouched down and looked through the bars back at him. _Hey there buddy._ "Well, he's a very handsome cat." He opened the door, reached in and picked Tugger out.

Tugger weighed up whether to do the decent thing and hang there like a picture on a wall, or to struggle and squirm and make a nuisance of himself until the human let him go.

He decided to go vertical and before he knew it, he was on the carpet.

"Hey, careful! You could have got hurt!"

Tugger looked up at the human, miaowed, and trotted away. _Humans,_ he laughed to himself. _Now, where do I wanna go?_ He'd travelled so far that the first thing he wanted to do was check out the neighbourhood. See where he was.

So he found the cat flap and went out.

The front garden was grassy. He could smell insects and mice so there'd be plenty of hunting later. If he felt like it.

"Oy! You're not supposed to be outside, come back!" That was the cue for Tugger to run. So he bolted around the corner, down the street and around a few corners, only half-noticing where he was going.

Somewhere along the way he picked up the scent of stale fish, so calming down he followed it. Turning one more corner he found himself faced with a long concrete track. He went down it. Suddenly he scented something. Cats! _Gee,_ he thought. _I haven't met another cat since the San Francisco Best of Breed championships!_ Encouraged, he trotted on.

His nose took him to a junkyard piled high with... stuff. And suddenly, Tugger wondered where all the bits went that humans threw away. The bags of rubbish they filled every few days? They were here. The fishbones from his meals? They were here. Old tins of paint? Here. Cardboard boxes? Here!

It was like nothing he'd ever seen before. It stank with possibility. There was food here, and there were cats. Not showcats, he guessed, but definitely cats. He saw the way everything was just heaped up. It was a whole playground. _I bet they have a great time here!_

Tugger jumped up onto the nearest heap and leapt his way from one piece of garbage to another as he scented out the mysterious cats. He leapt on a can of varnish, and then a sheet of metal, and then a roll of carpet.

And then, in a clearing below, he saw them!

TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
